


A little saving never hurt anyone

by boxofwonder



Series: Fairy tales with a light dusting of crack and lots of platonic feelings [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ?????, Agender Kenma, Gen, in case of writers block: more fairy tales, please enjoy, queerplatonic kuroken!!, rapunken and the tale of too much hair, sort of tangled sort of not tangled AU, throws sprinkles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofwonder/pseuds/boxofwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He spreads his arms wide, pretending they're not still weak and aching from fucking climbing all the way up here.<br/>“I'm here to save you.”<br/>The boy makes a tiny noise and wrinkles his nose.<br/>“Is that really necessary.” </p>
<p>Kuroo wants to save a princess. What he finds is Kenma, who doesn't want to be saved, but seems to enjoy his company. Rapunzel AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little saving never hurt anyone

As Kuroo pulls himself up the tower he's already picturing Bokuto's reaction in his mind. Hell yeah. Hell fucking yeah. He's the first one to get to save a real princess here. Oh man, his friend is gonna be so jealous.

He fucking owes him now! Ha!

He pulls himself up at the window, doing a more than unfortunate strange kind of somersault into the room and landing with an undignified noise he will definitely _not_ include in his triumphant retelling of the story. Thank God his princess is nowhere to be seen. All there is, in the middle of the room, is a boy with a long, thick braid and bare feet, wriggling his toes and staring at him with an expression that seems entirely too neutral considering that someone just toppled in through his window, which is too many fucking feet in the air.

“Yo,” Kuroo greets, getting to his feet and trying to smooth his hair down even though he knows it's absolutely pointless.

The boy stares at him.

His toes are still wriggling.

And his eyes look like amber.

“Uh, so –“

Sweeping his gaze through the cluttered room, and then intently looking at the person in the middle of the room again, Kuroo slowly realises it's probably more of a prince saving kind of deal here, but he can roll with that. So he spreads his arms wide, pretending they're not still weak and aching from fucking climbing all the way up here.

“I'm here to save you.”

The boy makes a tiny noise and wrinkles his nose.

“Is that really necessary.”

And this is how Kuroo meets Kenma Kozume, the laziest captive prince he has ever accidentally befriended in his life. Definitely not suited to tell cool stories about saving him. But – and he doesn't know it in that moment – later, Kuroo will find out that he stumbled upon something much more precious than a simple adventurous story to boast about.

 

\---

 

Kuroo doesn't get to save him in the slightest.

It's too bothersome. Kenma can't be motivated to leave this space behind.

No need for saving whatsoever. He's got food and games, and what else would he need? But he doesn't seem to mind Kuroo's company, and somehow, Kuroo finds himself coming back multiple times a week, just to get up here and hang out with Kenma all day. They play games and Kuroo will admire the sharp glint in Kenma's eyes and his even sharper mind – and how cat like he really can be, head rested on his lap and listening to the stories Kuroo will tell him. He almost expects him to start purring then, running his fingers through his hair.

And he tells him everything about his crazy friends, from Yaku's strict refusal to take care of any cats but the twenty street cats he feeds and allows to sleep curled up all over him, to Bokuto's determination to save a princess or a prince one day, and that one time where they all tried everything to get Kuroo's hair to finally lie down and it ended with a purple dotted fringe for an entire moon.

Kenma dissolves into unheard giggling at that, and maybe there's a tiny sunrise in Kuroo's heart.

Sometimes Kuroo plays the guitar for him. Kenma loves music, but he can't be bothered to learn how to play an instrument himself. Kuroo has this suspicion it might not just be his bigger love for games, but maybe there might just be something Kenma can't do for once, too. Either way, he's happy, filling this space with soft chords and little songs.

And he's grateful that he gets the chance to get to know the strange, quiet boy.

Well, boy – he's not. Not really. Kenma's just Kenma. Kuroo goes with 'he' anyway, 'cause it's the least bothersome, as Kenma puts it.

Kuroo comes back to this tower so often, he starts being able to read Kenma's expression flawlessly by now. (He can realise that the first time he met Kenma he probably looked beyond shocked and wishes he could back to that moment just to savour it again, now that he would know how to properly appreciate it.)

He makes some of his favourite, most precious memories up in this tower, as the sun paints shapes and shadows across the floor and their skin, its warmth making them as sleepy as the flecks of dust dancing in its light. Kenma falls asleep on his lap again and Kuroo leans back against the wall, his fingers running over Kenma's soft hair, marvelling at it. Wondering again. His chest is tight as something heavy and important unravels in his chest.

He looks down at Kenma's sleeping face and he – he realises Kenma might not be in need of saving. But if he was – if he was, Kuroo would move heaven and hell for this person.

It's in the wake of that realisation that everything spirals a little out of control. That their sleepy, peaceful little sanctuary gets shaken and thrown out of balance.

That Kenma blinks his eyes open and goes completely tense and pushes himself up.

“You have to go,” is the first thing he almost hisses.

“What?”

“ _Leave_.”

There's almost-panic, not-quite-terror in Kenma's eyes and it makes Kuroo's mouth run dry.

With a million questions on his tongue Kuroo gets to his feet, not daring to utter a single one.

“Leave. Don't come back for three days. On the fourth …”

Kenma opens his braid, almost absent-mindedly – the first time Kuroo has ever seen him do it, and he wonders how Kenma can even be _bothered_ with all this hair, a person who will avoid anything just to save energy.

When Kenma looks back at him, his breath and the unvoiced questions hitch in his throat.

He looks almost sad.

“Please come back?”

Something inside him cracks, just a little, and Kuroo hurries away from the window and across the room to gather Kenma up in his arms and drop a kiss on the crown of his head.

“The fourth day. I'll be here without fail.”

He turns around and leaves, heart beating and not daring to look back, and he can't forget it, not for a while. The fear in Kenma's eyes that he might not get to see him again. And all this – how strange is it?

This tower? Three days? And the hair, the damn hair! It's not like him. Not at all.

Something is wrong.

Something that instills terror in Kenma's heart.

And Kuroo won't stand for this.

He looks down at his hands, calloused from climbing over rough stone so often, and he grits his teeth because – because he will do anything in his might to keep Kenma safe, but he doesn't – he doesn't even know from what.

Why is he so useless?

 

\---

 

He returns on the fourth day.

Kenma doesn't meet his eyes, not in his usual kind of way. He wrings his hands and his toes are still and he almost hides behind the hair, still open, falling to the floor and circling around and around him, almost looking like it's trapping him. Kuroo steps over it, carefully, and strides across the room to wrap his arms around Kenma and hold him until he can feel him melt into the embrace.

It takes him a long, long while.

When he realises Kenma has reached up to dig his fingers into his shirt and cling on to it, Kuroo's heart breaks just a little.

He's not so sure anymore, that Kenma doesn't have to be saved. Something is wrong, something is so, so wrong here.

 

“Why don't you cut it?”, he asks, later, his fingers stilling on the guitar.

Kenma hesitates, his fingers a little too tight on the hairbrush.

His hair is still open, spread all over the floor, and Kenma has spent ages just brushing and brushing and brushing. It just doesn't seem like him at all.

“It must be so bothersome.”

His friend pushes his feet under his body and almost hides behind a strand of golden hair again. It's sort of cute, but Kuroo can't relax. The strange, dark feeling inside of him has got a deep hold of the warm core that's glowing with more strength each day, determined to protect Kenma from anything – be it boredom, bugs or something much, much worse. Urging him to be at the ready for when he really needed to save his friend.

“It's not my choice to make.”

“That's bullshit. It's your hair, you can do whatever you want. I could cut if off for you if you wanted me to. Your hair's probably gonna look as cool as mine then.”

Kenma crinkles his nose again.

“Hey, my hair is cool!”

“Not really.”

“You're just jealous.”

Kuroo's heart's not really into it. Beneath their friendly little banter, there's still an air of sadness, reluctant, but inevitable.

“Let's do something else,” Kenma says. And at the end of the day, he asks Kuroo to return on the fourth day again. Kuroo hugs him longer this time, and he's getting the feeling neither of them really want to let go. Something inside of him is rushing to a boiling point and he sprints back home.

He needs advice.

 

\---

 

“Dude. What the fuck!” Bokuto slams his palms on the table and pushes himself up. It's kind of a thing he does before he goes into a passionate rant. He did that yesterday morning about pancakes. But this ain't pancakes, and there's every reason in the world to go on a rant.

Yaku looks like he's about to bite into a lemon, but he sort of always does that – around Bokuto.

“This isn't right! A guy should cut his hair if he wants to! You gotta help him!”

“I think you're missing the point …”, Yaku delivers from where he's still sitting calmly, his fingertips touching, with a slight frown and his eyes darker than they usually are. It's good to see him react like that – at least Kuroo can be sure he's not imagining things.

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but Bokuto is right – you have to help him. Something is not right there.” Yaku starts clenching and unclenching his fists. His motherhen senses are definitely tingling.

Kuroo runs a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I sorta got that – but I don't wanna force anything on him either, y'know? He says he doesn't need saving …”

“Well you'll just barge in there!”, Bokuto shouts, all enthusiasm. “And slay whatever dragon's got him in its clutches!”

Yaku frowns.

“Dragons are actually peaceful creatures –“

“Yaku, please don't go on a dragon rant again –“, Kuroo sighs. “And Bo, c'mon, sit down. I can't just barge in there and –“

“But actually,” Yaku says, looking up at him. “What if you go there and check out what's going on? Then you can figure out what to do about it. And, perhaps … take some weapons with you. Just in case. I have a bad feeling about this …”

“Take me with you!”

“No,” Kuroo and Yaku say in unison, and spend the rest of the evening inviting Bokuto to free drinks to stop him from being dejected.

It's just … Kuroo has to do this alone. He can't pull anyone else into this. He's already kind of breaking Kenma's trust by planning to show up at his tower on day three – not four. Yaku seems to understand it – that there is more to this, that it's beyond simple.

He reaches out and squeezes his arm gently before they say goodbye. Kuroo holds up a babbling Bokuto in his shoulders and helps him home, pretending for now that he is not terrified of tomorrow.

 

\---

 

The morning is grey and the tower seems vaguely menacing, Kuroo finds. He swallows, chides himself for acting superstitious, and double checks for the dagger in his boot anyway. Everything in its place. He'll quickly get up there, peek in, see Kenma maybe meet another soulmate-potential friend and realise he's been cheated on and then leave without having to fear whatever is going on anymore.

As long as Kenma's safe and sound, Kuroo will be happy.

He just wishes he could swallow the stagnant fear growing in his chest. As he reaches the edge of the tower, Kenma's hair comes flying down towards him as if offering that he might use it to help himself up.

This is not suspicious at all.

Carefully avoiding it, Kuroo takes his usual way up, his heart hammering. What the fuck is going on? Does anyone know he's here already? Who is anyone? Why did Kenma never talk about anything like _that_?! He talks about games just fine. It's kind of adorable, seeing his eyes gleam with so much excitement. But that's beside the point. 

Kuroo takes a deep breath before he puts his hand on the windowsill. A strangled yelp escapes him as a hand wraps around his wrist and yanks him in. It's too large, too much force – _this isn't Kenma_ – and he's hitting the ground. His hand is reaching for the dagger but a foot pins it down to the floor. Kuroo groans as the pain explodes. Why the fuck didn't he just take Bokuto along?! _Fuck_.

“Do you see?”, a sweet, female voice says. The foot presses down harder on his wrist as she shifts her weight, and Kuroo screams, voice muffled and crumbling fast. She shoves her hand down his boot and produces the dagger.

“My, my. I always told you they'd come to kill you.”

“Kill?!”, Kuroo spits. “I'm his fr– !”

His wrist cracks and Kuroo screams louder, the pain eerily white in his mind, blanking everything else.

“Don't hurt him,” he can hear Kenma's voice, tiny, pleading.

“So it _is_ him, isn't it?”

“No! No, I don't know him –“

Blinking through the tears, Kuroo tries to see Kenma. His betrayal stings in all the tiny wounds torn open by the pain flooding his body.

_I know you. I'm here for you. What're you – ?!_

“Don't lie to me!”

The woman lets go of Kuroo, the dagger still clutched in her left. With her right, she slaps Kenma across the cheek with so much force, his head is thrown to the side.

“You were meeting someone behind my back, weren't you?! I knew I couldn't leave you alone without you betraying me! I've seen this coming all along! It was him, wasn't it?! Giving you all these ideas! Going outside! Cutting your hair! It was all his influence!”

Kuroo curls around his wrist, cradling it to his body. But he forces himself to focus on what is going on, on how he could help. This is so much worse than he expected. He can't … he has to do something.

Kenma raises his chin, cheek glaring red. His eyes are wet from the pain, but they're burning.

“It's what I wanted all along. He just made me believe it could be possible.”

Another slap, harder this time. Kuroo gasps, and the anger inside of him makes him push himself up to his legs. His wrist aches with every little step. Pain stabbing his brain and his thoughts and his very being. But he can't let this woman hurt Kenma.

“Hey,” he spits out. It's kind of a bad idea. He realises that when she lunges at him and there is no way for him to dodge. She throws him to the floor so hard – he feels dizzy for so long – he only realises what's going on when the blade is against his throat already.

Ah, fuck.

Fuck.

“Maybe I should teach you a lesson! This is it, Kenma! This is what you get for betraying me! You hurt me – and you _killed_ your friend –“

“ _Touch him and I'll – !”_ , Kenma threatens, but.

The blade is moving.

Away from his throat?

Oh.

Kuroo hadn't known Kenma's voice could be so loud.

Kenma's voice fills his mind.

It's one long, heart-and-ear-shattering scream.

He stares at the blade buried in his gut and.

He can't feel anything.

The woman gets tackled off Kuroo.

It all kind of feels like the little thumb tales he and Yaku used to draw when they were kids. On all kinds of scraps. If you let it run across your thumb, you could see the pictures moving. But this is slower. Just. Picture by picture.

The blade.

And the blood.

And Kenma screaming and fighting.

With his trembling, left hand Kuroo touches the blood.

It's ruining his shirt.

Oh.

Yaku is gonna be so mad.

And he'd have to.

Invite Bokuto to …

So many drinks …

To get him over … being dejected …

“Kuroo.”

Kenma's eyes are wide and full of fear and tears.

This is … not how Kuroo had wanted it to go.

He feels cold.

And a little scared.

And there's pain and.

Kenma is not … supposed to … look this sad.

“Hey,” he rasps. He can't use his right hand, so he forces his left to reach up to Kenma's cheek. He feels a little bad for the trails of blood he leaves on his skin, catches a tear with his thumb. Kenma is warm.

“Don't cry.”

Kenma takes his hand in both of his, and starts crying harder.

“You idiot!”

“I wanted to – save you …”

“You won't die on me,” Kenma tells him, no room for argument.

“Too bad true love's kiss ain't for us.”

“Shut up,” Kenma sobs, moving closer, cupping his cheeks. “I've never loved anyone as much as you. I'm not losing you because it's not romantic.”

And he presses a trembling, wet kiss to his forehead and hugs Kuroo to his chest.

Magic – Kuroo doesn't believe in magic. But it does feel a little bit like magic, when Kenma wraps his arms around him and his scent calms Kuroo's panicking nerves. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Death could be worse, he figures.

“You can cut my hair,” Kenma promises, his voice strained and barely there. “I'll even go with you … meet your friends … I'll do all bothersome things when you just … stay with me.”

“Let's go on an adventure,” Kuroo breathes, as the pain starts seeping into his nerves.

An adventure they'll never have.

But the lies are so beautiful.

He wants to believe in them.

Fool himself a little.

The place Kenma kissed on his forehead feels inexplicably warm.

Kenma lets go of him and leans back a little, inhaling sharply, an almost gasp. 

Kuroo squints into unnecessary, unfurling light stinging his eyes.

What the … ?

And Kenma smiles, bright golden light reflecting in his eyes.

“I guess I'll have to,” he whispers and Kuroo gasps as trails of light erupt across his skin, twirl around his body and envelope him in warmth.

He raises his hand, staring at his fingertips, kissed by what seems like rays of liquid light, what feels like Kenma's touch – warm and home and full of love. They seep into his skin, taking the pain with them, mending his bones and muscles and nerves. Pale orange lines circle around his arms, and around his broken wrist, there's a complicated pattern of sunrays where he was healed.

The glow of it slowly dissipates, leaving only the marks, and it's easy to breathe.

He feels better than he had before.

“I don't even believe in magic,” Kuroo says, completely dumb-founded, as he stares at his healed wounds and the sweet free tattoo job he got as an extra bonus. Then he raises his head, looking up at Kenma. Kenma who reaches out and pulls him into a hug again, still crying, but his expression the happiest Kuroo has ever seen.

“Kenma, what happened to …”

Was it his mother? Kuroo has a feeling this woman had been …

Instead of answering, Kenma kisses his temple and holds him even closer. Kuroo wraps his arms around him in turn, can feel all the terror from before start to leave him, leave him in tears and sobs and the reassurance of Kenma, alive and well, so close to him.

“I'll take you away from here if you want me to,” he forces out between his ridiculous little sobs.

“Please,” Kenma breathes.

“You'll love the others.”

“We'll see.”

Kuroo chuckles, breathlessly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll write a third part with adventure buddies Kuroo, Yaku, Kenma and Bokuto?! Who knows! :D 
> 
> Also, fun fact: Kenma's kiss left a tiny sun mark on Kuroo's forehead and he always complains about it being off center just enough for it to be annoying. Kenma tells him to shut up. Both like their new look (no more hair brushing for Kenma, this child has never been happier) and Bokuto is super jealous of Kuroo's new tattoos. Yaku adopts Kenma immediately. 
> 
> Also. [Never listen to Uptown Funk while writing dramatic near death scenes.](https://twitter.com/citrusfluegel/status/579318057031593984)


End file.
